


come back and haunt me

by nutellamuffin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Angst, Baby Harry Potter, Canonical Character Death, Indian James Potter, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Young Adult Remus Lupin, bold of you to assume remus would let dumbledore take him to them, but vernon is an ass and you can't deny it, give us dad remus, i am begging, maybe petunia didn't like harry because of lily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutellamuffin/pseuds/nutellamuffin
Summary: remus can’t breathe as he looks at them.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 130





	come back and haunt me

remus can’t breathe as he looks at them.

and he doesn’t need to, he already knows what they look like. he knows what james’ eyes look like when they’re so full of light, when he grins like nothing is wrong in the world and shoves remus’ shoulder to get him to snap out of his daydreams; he knows what they will look like without it. he knows what lily’s smile looks like when she’s happy, the way her eyes shine like gems and said smile is like warm honey in your tea; he knows what she will look like, _expressionless._

he does not need to look at them, but in a way he already has, because he knows what they’ll look like even when he tries his best not to turn towards the bodies on the floor, and all he wants to do is press his palms into his eye sockets until he goes blind. his throat is like sandpaper and he hasn’t even _looked,_ a voice inside his head is telling him to _look, just look, it’s not as bad as you think it is and they can’t really be dead and if you don’t look you’re just admitting that you don’t know if it’s true and_ **_it’s okay to look because there’s no way in the world that lily and james are dead._ **

he looks.

everything in this house is bleak and blackened and broken except for one. (and the thing that hurts the most is that it isn’t just one; there’s still moving pictures on the wall, showing remus and sirius and james trying to build a crib; there’s still food in the cupboards in the kitchen, and remus can vaguely smell what they were making for dinner; there’s still a few storybooks on the shelves untouched, unburned. there are many unbroken things in this house, but remus only _cares_ about one.)

harry was never a particularly loud baby, and perhaps that is why it’s such a startling sound to hear him cry. and in a way, it’s like he’s looking at james anyway; because _merlin,_ harry still looks exactly like him as he had every time remus visited, but now it hurts so much more to make the comparison.

he realizes as he’s lifting the baby out of the crib that he has no idea what’s just happened. to harry, the world got an infinite amount louder, and then went quiet. deadly quiet. and he’s _screeching,_ his throat must be raw as he cries, and for a moment remus doesn’t know what he’s to do.

this isn’t the first time he’s cradled harry, but perhaps it is the first time he’s cradled him like _this._ in a sense of trying to protect him from the world when he’s not even certain he can anymore, to distract him what he’s unaware of what he’s lost; perhaps since remus needs to be distracted, too.

because he knows their bodies are still on the floor. _and he knows where to look, and he knows what they’ll look like,_ and in a moment of having all words lodged behind his tongue and having so much to say, he remembers what lily used to sing to harry.

somehow, remus finds his voice.

_sirius is given the title of godfather and this has to be the first time in years that remus has seen him teary eyed, openly. he can’t form words, and so remus claps him on the shoulder and congratulates him; it must be enough, because sirius merely smiles wider, and falls silent._

_james apologizes with a grin on his face about picking favourites, and remus mocks a gasp, pretending he is anything but thrilled no matter what the news is. and lily, even though he was joking, places her hand on his arm, and says,_ **_“don’t worry, rem, you’re next,”_ ** _with a radiant look on her face that is only lily evans-potter and no one else._

_it is a quiet thing, and he doubts sirius or james in their celebrations have even heard her, but the way lily’s eyes crinkle at the corners tells him that it does not matter whether or not they did. remus allows himself to grin, and lily mirrors it, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing._

he stares into the wispy eyes of a man who he’s learned to be grateful for and his jaw goes slack at his words. remus knows the better half of his life up until this point is all thanks to this man- who ignored what he was, who gave him a spot in the great hall, who spread rumours about ghosts in the shack that he hid in every month so that no one would question him- and he hates it.

he hates it, because that man is standing in front of him now, and is telling him to give up the one thing that his two best friends died to protect. the man says it’s better for him to be with his blood family, and remus can’t help but think it’s more; yet he doesn’t have the heart to question it, to bring it up, because he knows that the four of them were a better family than lily ever had. he knows, because she’s told them; because she’s thrown her arms around sirius and remus’ necks and grinned as they swung her upwards; because she’s met up with remus over the summers to do _“muggle things”_ like throw popcorn at the screen of a bad movie and look through photo albums of non-moving pictures; because lily has looked at remus and sirius like they were her brothers, and treated them as such.

he tells him he has to be joking, and the man only gives him a grim look.

and there is no way, there is no _way_ he’s giving harry up to the family that he knows will only hurt him. there is no way he will stand there and _willingly_ hand him over, to a family he knows will shun him, will hide him from the world, will make him feel like he is nothing; the family that shunned lily for the magic flowing through her veins, that shunned james for the colour of his skin, and will surely do both for harry.

“remus,” dumbledore says, and in all his life, he has only been called _remus_ once; when he was eleven and scared, when he had just gotten a letter in the mail and he wanted to burn it despite what his parents were saying, and from then on it had been _young mr. lupin_. he holds out his hands, barely, withered with age and wisdom- although remus is doubting that last bit right about now.

and remus says, “no.”

he collapses on his couch as if the world is weighing on his shoulders; and it is, in a way, but right now the only thing resting on his shoulder that he needs to worry about is harry. the baby, in question, is fast asleep in remus’ arms, and he wonders for something so small, how he’s nearly completely fine.

remus, on the other hand, is a million times less so, and only when harry isn’t awake to see it, he lets the long-coming tears slip down his cheeks. everything is so _uncertain_ that he nearly expects someone to break into his house and steal harry away; he does not have the logic to abandon that thought, he does not have anything against the impossible anymore. he remembers the way dumbledore had looked at him as if all his faith had vanished in his eyes, and remus has yet to decide whether or not he cares.

he decides he doesn’t, when harry makes a small, snuffly noise in his sleep that reminds him of james, (you can tell a lot about a person by the way they sleep, remus realized, after nights of playing lookout or being wide awake when he shouldn’t be.)

harry grabs at remus’ neckline with his tiny hand, and remus not only decides that he’s made the right decision, but he _knows._ and he knows that no matter what happens, he won’t let anyone hurt him like that again.

for james, maybe; for lily. but most importantly, for harry.

in the morning, remus’ tear tracks have dried on his cheeks, and he’s awoken by the sun shining on his face through the blinds. for a half second, he forgets where he is, what has happened; and when everything settles in again, he nearly screams.

except for the fact that harry is stirring, and remus shifts into a more upright position than he was sleeping in- he notices, as he does so, that falling asleep on the couch perhaps wasn’t the best idea- and harry tugs at his neckline once more. with a small hand that’s soft as satin, he touches his palm to remus’ most obvious scar, stretching across his nose, and smiles that smile that babies do when they’ve realized they recognize you.

he near expects him to say _mama_ or _baba_ like he’s been babbling for the past few weeks, (remus can remember how james burst into his apartment, dragging him on his heels, _he spoke,_ he’d said, _he’s talking about lily,_ and how by the time they’d made it back to the house, lily was grinning with tears in her eyes and told james that he knew who he was,) but he doesn’t.

harry tugs a bit at the lock of hair falling into remus’ eyes, and says, _“moomy!”_ with the brightest look in his eyes. and for a boy who just lost everything a mere twelve hours ago and doesn’t know it, his giggle is like the most delicate bells that remus has ever heard; and he allows himself to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> remus would've been jily kid #2's godfather. you cannot and should not try to change my mind.


End file.
